Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 56915 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 285(@200wpm)___ 228(@250wpm)___ 190(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 56915 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 285(@200wpm)___ 228(@250wpm)___ 190(@300wpm)
“That’s what I asked her. She wants her hair done.” Killyama threw her under the bus then took one of the empty beauty chairs to sit and watch.
“Why in the hell would I touch your hair?”
Bliss licked her lips nervously, tugging her red crocheted hat down farther over her head. “I don’t know,” Bliss mumbled before gaining some courage. “I was hoping you would put business over our personal issues. I can see I was wrong.”
“Ya think? I wouldn’t touch your skanky hair with a ten-foot pole. Get out,” Sex Piston sneered.
Bliss nodded, turning to flee.
“Wait a minute. It true you’re not with The Last Riders anymore?” Killyama’s imperious voice cut through her fear.
Bliss hesitated. “Yes. I’m sure you think it’s what I deserve.”
“Yeah.” Sex Piston went back to blowing out the hair of the brunette woman who was sitting in her chair.
Crazy Bitch took off the cape of the woman she was working on, telling her she was done. Bliss could tell the woman didn’t want to miss the drama still going on inside the shop. She walked to the front desk, taking her time as she looked for her credit card.
Killyama leaned forward, placing her forearms on her thighs as she studied Bliss with narrowed eyes. “Take off your hat.”
“There really isn’t any need since Sex Piston doesn’t want…” She tugged down her hat again, fidgeting with it fretfully.
Killyama stood, walking toward her with a determined stride. Bliss backed away, but she wasn’t quick enough to dodge the hand that reached out to snatch the red hat away.
The blow-dryer went off again.
“What motherfucker did that to you?” Killyama snarled.
Bliss grabbed her hat back. “No one did this to me. I did it to myself.”
“Why in the fuck would you do that?” Sex Piston put her blow-dryer down, coming toward her to gingerly touch the tufts of her remaining hair.
“I thought I might have lice.”
Sex Piston didn’t recoil in horror like Bliss expected. Instead, she gave her a stern look with her hands on her hips.
“You didn’t check before you ripped out your hair?”
“No,” Bliss chokingly admitted.
“Dammit! Christie, let Crazy Bitch finish you up.” Sex Piston motioned for the woman to move to Crazy Bitch’s chair before turning back to Bliss. “Take your coat off and sit your ass down,” Sex Piston ordered, opening a drawer at her station and pulling out a pair of plastic gloves. She put them on matter-of-factly then began going through her hair. When she was finished, she took the gloves off and tossed them in the trash. “You don’t have lice.”
“Are you sure?” Bliss felt the heated fire of a blush stain her cheeks as everyone stared, waiting for the verdict.
“Yes. I’m sure. Bitch, I’ve seen my fair share of lice. Why didn’t you ask someone to check before you ripped out your hair?”
“Because I felt them.”
“You felt them?”
Bliss nodded helplessly. “When I was younger, I had lice several times. Some moms made their kids quit playing with me. I was finally able to get rid of them when I cut my hair off and Evie helped me.”
Bliss wouldn’t say that any of their expressions softened, but the hatred that was always so easily visible disappeared.
“You don’t fuck Train anymore?” Killyama’s sharp words startled Bliss at the sudden change in the conversation.
“What?” Bliss stared at her, dumbfounded.
“Do … you … fuck … Train … anymore?” Killyama spat out as if she was simpleminded.
“No. I. Don’t,” Bliss snapped, starting to get up, having had enough humiliation from these bitches. She wasn’t going to take anymore.
Killyama leaned back in her chair. “Fix her hair,” she ordered Sex Piston.
“What am I supposed to do with it? There’s nothing left.”
“You’re bragging all the time about how good you are. Prove it. Fix her fucking hair.”
“Since when do you care what her hair looks like?” Crazy Bitch twirled the poor woman around in her chair until Bliss thought she would get whiplash.
“Since she isn’t fucking Train anymore.”
“I don’t know who would fuck her looking like this.” Sex Piston reached into her drawer, pulling out a clipper. Draping a cape around her neck, she began shaving the rest of her hair off the sides.
Most women would have broken down in tears as their remaining hair fell to the floor. Bliss didn’t. She simply watched in resignation as Sex Piston expertly glided the clippers around her head.
“Drake.” Bliss found the name slipping from her lips.
“What?” T.A. asked from behind the counter, showing the other women hadn’t lost interest. Gossip always ruled in a hair salon.
“Drake Hall doesn’t have a problem fucking me with the way I look.”
“He that good-looking realtor in Treepoint with his picture planted on those For Sale signs?” Sex Piston casually asked, setting down the clippers and picking up her scissors.
“Yes.”
“He any good?” Killyama asked.
“Yes.” Bliss straightened proudly in her chair, no longer hunching over. The women had gone from looking at her with pity to envy. That, she could deal with.